Hang up Your Heels
by fashiongirl97
Summary: A twist on Haitus. Jenny was on the ship when it blew up, and she went to Mexico. But now she's back, but what exactly has been going one. OneShot! Please R


**Disclaimer **_I don't own NCIS_

**Authors note **_This is yet another product of my bus journeys to college every day. It turned out to be way more angst than I had originally intended._

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Hang up Your Heels

It didn't seem right somehow. The fact that he was stuck in her office, doing her job - one he had never even momentarily wanted - walking in her heals. Meanwhile, the woman whose chair he was sitting in was off sunning herself on a beach somewhere in Mexico with Franks.

The fact that she was in Mexico was surprising enough - she'd never been one for just the basics in life, instead preferring the top notch hotels and luxury suites. Yet it was the part about her being with Franks: he hadn't even known that they knew each other! Part of him was jealous, that she was spending months with his former boss and not him. That the man who had taught him everything, the grumpy _old_ man, would get to see the old Jenny whilst he was stuck with the director. But on the other hand he found it highly amusing. Both Jenny and Mike were stubborn headed and opinionated people. They were bound to clash and he just wished he was a fly on the wall.

Life had been hard on her lately, he knew that. She'd walked onto that boat instead of him; simply because he'd been too busy flirting with Cornel Mann to pay attention to his phone. The red head had known that it was important, that going onboard of the boat could save lives. So Jenny being Jenny, the skilled agent she was, had taken charge. Told his agents what to do, and then stepped onboard.

He'd never forgive himself, not in a hundred years. Not in a million years. He'd thought it must be DiNozzo prating around at first. Some practical joke, then Ducky had rung. There had been something in the Scotsman's voice that Gibbs had never heard before: anger. And there had been all due right for its presence.

"Where in God's earths are you Jethro?!" He'd sworn down the phone. But the former marine was in shock. He'd left Hollis, confused and angry. Then he'd driven to the hospital on auto pilot. For the rest of his life that day would haunt him. The sleeping look on her face, her almost translucent skin filled with angry red burns, and that tube showing she wasn't even breathing herself.

-Gibbs shook his head and tried to banish the memories away. The words of the case file in front of him swam before his eyes. Standing up he swore under his breath and left the office, going in search of coffee. But as he walked out onto the catwalk, the whole agency seemed to be different. There was no banter, no joking or arguing. Everyone just worked. Even his team - or DiNozzo's team as it currently was - were working. All of them silently writing up their case reports. She was gone, she'd woken from her coma, told everyone what would happen and been ignored: exactly as Franks had been.

He didn't blame her for being mad; hell she'd woken up thinking she was back in Cairo. Every time anyone had entered the room she had cowered in her bed. When Gibbs had entered though, she just sobbed, mumbling how sorry she was. But then Ziva had snapped her out of it. With a head slap as comical as it was.

He didn't know what had happened in Cairo, he wasn't sure he'd ever know the full story. But Ziva had saved her life, and to see Jenny as terrified as she was, something had happened that had shaken her to her core.

Now he drank his coffee whilst it was still scalding hot, but the taste simply reminded him of her. The way she'd grown to love his taste in coffee just as much as he loved it. He hadn't realised just how accustomed he had become to her company - even as his boss - until she wasn't there.

The day dragged on, but eventually he managed to finish his case files, and even managed to have a reasonably civil conversation with SecNav - which was a first. However still there was no word from Jenny. He picked up the phone long after everyone at the agency had gone home. He was about to ring the cantina he knew Franks frequented, as he had nearly done a hundred times since she left, but he didn't. Instead he stood up, grabbed his coat and left the building.

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The bottle of bourbon was nearly empty, so he'd tipped the remaining into his mason jar and placed it by his side. It was dark outside now, a chill had settled over the city as they all retired to their homes. With his sander in hand he went with the grain, just as he had taught them all, and as his father had taught him. Jenny had been the only one not to object to a night in his basement - mainly because she knew it would lead to other activities, but also because she knew it was his place. His very own escapism, one that no one else could comprehend.

The sander moved slowly across the nearly smooth wood. Its rough surface causing the friction needed to make a perfect finish. He carried on going long after he knew the bow of the boat was smooth, but he was lost in his thoughts, or more precisely memories. But for once they weren't of Shannon and Kelly- they were still firmly in his heart of course - however today it was another red head.

Jenny.

With those bright red curls and those sinful red lips. Her smirk which made men fall to their knees, and caused her partners to cut and run. It was the agent Jenny he was remembering today though. The Jen who would laugh like no one was watching, and tell jokes. Not the Jenny who he was replacing, the cold, director Jenny who no one could get close to.

- The clicking if impossibly high heels brought him from his thoughts. Looking up at the top if his stairs he couldn't quite decide if he were hallucinating or not. Because there she was stood, yet she looked different. She looked like the old Jenny. Her scars had near enough heeled, but there was still a burn mark on her neck which he knew would scar. Her hair was longer, it brushed the tops of her shoulders and her pale skin had a slight colour to it.

She was wearing ankle boots, with skinny jeans tucked in and an oversized blue shirt. Her hair was down and naturally curly. But there was a wall between them. One that she had put up before even entering the room they now both shared. And as she slowly but cautiously made her way down his rickety staircase he knew all of his hope of building bridges had just been burnt.

"Jen?" He questioned placing down the sander and downing the remainder of his bourbon. He was pretty sure he was gonna need it for the conversation he was about to have. She looked at him with a smile, but that too was a guarded one. Not like the one he had only just been remembering.

"I wanted to give you this to say thanks." She stated. Holding out a bottle of bourbon to him - the good stuff - that he previously had not noticed her carrying. He took the bottle and placed it down.

"How was your margarita safari?" He questioned, a lop sided smirk on his face. She just looked at him with a glare, making it blatantly obvious that she wasn't in any mood for jokes. It was like a part of her had been left on that beech. Like something had fallen out of her, and couldn't be fitted back in.

"No long enough." She stated, before walking towards the boat and feeling the wood, the warmth that seamed into her fingers telling her that he'd only just finished sanding it. She walked around the skeleton and looked at his work, before moving under it and sitting down on one of the struts, just as she had done all of those years ago. As she sat down she became intensely interested in her nails.

Gibbs had previously decided that when he felt the barriers he would not offer her a drink, but instead he did, he held it out and she shook her head, denying it. "Pain meds." She replied, reminding him that unlike Gibbs, she actually listened to the doctor's orders. He just nodded and downed it before picking up the sander and continuing.

"I . . . erm, I was kidnapped and held hostage." She stated, getting his attention, he looked over at her, shocked. "In Cairo." She added, and he looked at her momentarily before returning to the sanding. "By a Hamas terrorist cell. I was kept in a cell, beaten, tortured and . . . well I'm sure you can guess."

"Ziva saved you." IT wasn't a question, she'd told him that years ago he just had not known how exactly it was that she had been saved or from whom. But Jenny gave him a nod of her head, and looked down again. "Why you telling me Jenny?"

"Because when you saw me you looked terrified, and you deserved to know."

"What happens now Jen?" He asked, and she just sighed, closing her eyes and considering her answer. He wanted a relationship, to start again. But she knew she couldn't. Things had happened in Cairo that had left a longer effect that apparent at first. And she would not inflict her broken and wounded self upon the man she loved. Now when he had already lost one woman he loved. It wasn't fair.

"I go back to being director, and you hang up your heels." She said, standing up and looking at him. Gibbs didn't reply, just watched as she walked over, climbed over to his side of the boat and looked at him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and softly kissed his lightly stubble cheek, letting her lips linger. Then, without another word she walked away. Slowly climbing up the stairs. Then she got to the top he said her name.

"Jen." They turned to look at one another, and both knew this was the end of the line. She would cut herself off from other, and he would try to move on. But it wouldn't work, she'd take too many risks and he'd do just the same. And the cycle would continue until one, the other or both took a risk too big. "I'm glad you're back."

"See you on Monday Jethro."

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